The Price of Passage
by Othnieltcs
Summary: Not long after Archimonde's defeat at the World Tree, a Goblin merchant must make an unusual delivery by crossing dangerous territory in a still-changing world.


The female Orc looked around at the mortal wound of a dying dream. Construction on the new city had barely begun when the building was put on hold to prepare for battle. Orgrimmar was barely more than a vision, and already the Orcs were forced to defend what they would call home.

But a homeland for their people was Thrall's dream, not hers. She shared in the dream of her Warchief, as they all did, but her ambitions were her own. She looked down at the unique collection of children and sighed. "Come with me," she told them.

Most leaders were not willing to trust her with more than one, for all their words about what a great idea it was. Only Jaina Proudmoore, a rare Human who seemed to truly believe things that she said, was willing to offer two to the project. Two Humans and one of each from the Orcs, Tauren, Trolls, High Elves, Night Elves, Dwarves and Gnomes: nine out of a countless sea of orphans from the long war against the undead Scourge and the demonic invasion. Great things had had even more humble beginnings, but all her work was about to be undone by the blind hatred of a single Human admiral.

She had been an orphan herself, her parents slain in the epic struggle between the Alliance of Lordaeron and the mighty Horde led by Orgrim Doomhammer. She'd grown up in an internment camp, pitied by humans and ignored by her fellow orcs who wasted away from regret and lack of purpose. Now she had a chance to build an orphanage that would not allow such a situation to victimize other children. A place that would truly care for any child in need, regardless of parentage or background. And now she had to send them away for their own safety. Her name was Battlewail, and her dream was dying before her very eyes.

Xanzz Spritzoil stepped off the boat and had a look around the town of Ratchet. Not much had changed since he'd been here years ago. He inspected the crate that had been unloaded carefully for several minutes, finally finding a tiny scuff on one of the bottom corners of the crate.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

At the sound of Xanzz' raised voice, the dockmaster hurried over. "Settle down! What's going on here?"

"Negligence, that's what's going on here! Do you see this scuff?" The dockmaster had to bend down and squint, but Xanzz didn't give the other goblin time to reply. "This is a crate of very dangerous, extremely delicate explosives! Can you imagine what my customers would have done to me if this crate had blown up your whole dock?"

Clearly, what the dockmaster could imagine was his entire dock in flames. "Hmmm, we'll have to charge your import fee to the captain of this ship for his crew's carelessness."

Xanzz bowed, slipping the dockmaster a gold coin to make sure he didn't change his mind. "I'm glad we could get this sorted out." Now, all he needed were some buyers for this junk his cousin had foisted upon him.

"Xanzz Spritzoil?"

The goblin merchant turned to see a tall, imposing orcish woman. "Titan's teeth, woman! If you're here about the shipment of Dark Iron axe-heads, it's not due to arrive in Kalmidor for another week. I'll have to charge your warchief ten percent extra for being so frazzing _early_!"

"I am not here about axe-heads," the orc grunted.

"Oh." Ten percent extra was only fair anyway; Xanzz would have to find another excuse to tack it onto the axe-head deal. He spied the dockmaster heading his way and was shocked. That cheap, money-grubbing captain had actually outspent him in a bribe! Xanzz decided he would much rather be somewhere else. "Right, let's discuss it over a nice stein of dwarven grog, shall we?" He hurried up the hill to Ratchet's only inn.

The goblin's good mood from avoiding the dockmaster did not last long. "Absolutely not!" He slammed his stein down on the table.

"We are prepared to pay ten gold pieces a head."

"Ten gold…? How many did you say?"

"Nine."

"You couldn't scrounge up one more of the vermin and make it an even ten?"

"If you're not interested…"

"Whoa, hold on! I never said that! Just gimme a minute. Gotta make new plans, going so far out of my way."

The Orc scratched her head. "Odd… The banker said you were going to Theramore anyway."

"Er… He could have mistaken me for anybody."

"Apparently most citizens in Ratchet are not eager to cross the Barrens. Hard to recover the price your guards demanded, isn't it?"

"Guards shmaurds! My grandpappy Leekin Spritzoil used to eat centaurs for breakfast!"

"Tasty, but better suited for a light lunch."

"Listen, what's so bad about keeping the brats in that great big city you Orcs are supposedly building up North?"

The Orc growled at that. "Nothing we can't handle. It just won't be the safest place for the time being."

"Yeah, I heard about the Human fleet from out east. So you're sending them to a Human outpost to protect 'em from Humans? That's just brilliant! Why didn't I think of that before?"

"Theramore is different. I know people there who will take care of them, but there is not much time. Will I have to spend it finding someone else to take them?"

"No, no. Who do I go to for my pitifully small payment?"

Xanzz studied his newest shipment and let out a great sigh. An orc girl, a night elf girl, a troll boy, a high elf boy, a tauren girl, a dwarf girl, a gnome girl and – of course – _two_ humans, boy and girl. And he _hated_ kids. Of any kind. They were all between eight and twelve years of age, according to the documents. For all he could tell, only the gnome looked reasonably close to such a tender age. A couple of the kids – the tauren and troll – already stood taller than Xanzz.

"Now listen up!" They all turned to him with wide eyes. "You're all here because your families died in the war."

Immediately the human girl started bawling. She was quickly joined by the gnome and the troll. Before he could get another word out, all nine of the orphans were at least sniffing and rubbing their eyes. _Great start_. Xanzz was already regretting taking on this contract.

Some settled down more easily than others. The elves were calm almost immediately after his apology, and the troll just went dancing off somewhere. The tauren was fine after being given a piece of jerky to chew on. The human boy and the orc girl had to be separated after coming to blows over an argument about who was the bigger crybaby. The dwarf had been cheering on the fight, tears already forgotten. The sensitive souls of the human girl and the gnome, however, would not easily forget his offense. Xanzz could have sworn they cried and sobbed for _hours_. Every time he thought they were over it, he would go over to them and after one look at him they'd be at it again.

"Now listen up," Xanzz tried again later. Again, they all looked at him wide-eyed. If only customers were this gullible after one honest mistake. "We're all going to some new Human outpost called Theramore."

The high elf boy solemnly raised his hand.

"Yes, what's wrong with you now?"

"Exactly how long is the journey supposed to take?"

"Two or three days. What's it matter to you, kid? Got business there?"

The elf blushed and shook his head, and Xanzz whistled sharply. Five of Ratchet's bruisers, each with a bulging, jingling coin pouch on their belt, hurried over. "Get all this junk loaded up in the wagon," Xanzz told them, his dismissive wave including the children.

They were only a day away from their destination when trouble came. Xanzz had expected it sooner, but apparently this new Horde the Orcs and the Tauren had formed really put the fear of the Titans in the centaur tribes that roamed the Barrens.

What Xanzz hadn't expected was the ferocity of the centaurs' charge. It was as if they were trying to make up for how easy the trip had been so far. The guards from Ratchet were extremely well-armed, but after expending ludicrous amounts of ammunition and ordinance, the centaurs were still coming at them. The merchant was forced to take cover with the kids as the guards scrambled to lay down a few land mines as the charging horde bore down upon the lone wagon.

Xanzz sat and cringed, amazed at how unfazed the tender younglings seemed to be at the explosions, screams, roars and general sounds of carnage coming from outside the wagon. More evidence that they could not be as young as that cursed orc claimed. After a few moments of quiet, Xanzz felt brave enough to unwrap his arms from around himself. One of the children opened the flap to peek outside and Xanzz nearly soiled his trousers. "What are you doing?" the goblin shrieked.

"It's all clear," the orc and human boy said in unison. Before Xanzz could object, all the children were clambering out of the wagon. Spritzoil would have preferred a little more time to confirm the all-clear, but with a sigh he followed the children outside.

Two of his guards were still standing, but one of them was clutching his belly and sank down to his knees as Xanzz approached. The kids stood in a solemn little half-circle and watched as the other guard snatched the coin purse from her dying fellow's belt. Then she took off running back the way they came, shouting over her shoulder, "I wasn't paid enough for this!"

Xanzz and the kids watched until the guard disappeared from their sight. Then the night elf had a comment, to no one in particular. "Does she realize she has a three-day trip across barren wasteland with no provisions?"

Xanzz grunted. He'd been so busy thinking of the coin purses on the belts of the other dead guards, he never considered that the traitor might not make it back to Ratchet. "She'll figure it out. Eventually." It certainly gave Xanzz some small satisfaction to imagine the moment.

The dwarf girl turned to look up at him. "What now, Uncle Spritzy?"

Xanzz stared at the girl in slowly growing horror. "_What_ did you just call me?"

The human girl clapped her hands in excitement. "Uncle Spritzy! Perfect!"

"How droll," the high elf muttered.

"I like it," the orc girl said, her arms folded challengingly.

"_I_ don't," sputtered the goblin. "And what's next is, you're all getting in the wagon, and I am getting out of this death trap!"

"Will you tell us a story?" Spritzoil turned to find the tauren's big cow-eyes staring down at him.

"Absolutely not!"

Xanzz felt a tug on his pants leg. The gnome again. "Pleeeeaaaase, Uncle Spritzy?"

"_Stop_ calling me that, and I might consider it." Xanzz could only groan as each and every child in the group responded with a loud cheer.

"…and there the Druid remains to this day, granted his foolish request and rooted to the spot for all eternity. The end!" Xanzz looked around at the children. The night elf was stunned, of course, but oddly so was the tauren. The humans and gnome he had expected to burst into tears by now. But so did the orc and the troll! The dwarf sprang to her feet, face as red as one of cousin Rellig's firecrackers. Only the high elf seemed to appreciated the goblin's genius for storytelling – he sat quietly and nodded to himself.

The dwarf stomped over to Xanzz until she was less than two inches from him and poked her finger right in his nose. "You," she shouted, "tell the worst stories in the whole world!"

"Oh come on," Xanzz replied as he took a step back from her. "Happy endings are for sissies.

"So the moral of the story is, everyone should let yer whole clan die if ye can save yer own skin?"

Xanzz thought it over for a moment. "I couldn't have put it better myself! I'm glad _someone_ was paying attention… OWWWWW!"

The merchant made a note to himself as he hopped around his wagon holding his throbbing toes: dwarves have extremely heavy feet. Even as children. "That's it, story time is over!" Xanzz limped over to the driver's seat. "Get in the wagon or get left behind!"

The night elf had a question. "What if the centaurs come back?"

The thought was too much for the nervous little gnome. "We're all gonna DIE!" She ran around in circles as she screamed, as if another centaur horde was already charging at them.

"Hey, hey, HEY!" Xanzz' shout effectively shocked them all into paying attention to him. "See this?" He held out one of his cousin's patented extra-loud Ka-blammo grenades. "This makes centaurs go 'boom'! And I've got two crates full of 'em!"

The children all appropriately "ooohed" and "aaaahed", and Xanzz was feeling quite good about himself until things went terribly wrong.

"Hey," the dwarf girl said, looking very excited. "_I_ can help ye throw 'em at the centaurs!"

"Uh, that won't be necessary…"

Too late. All the other kids were shouting how they wanted one too, and what big, big trouble the centaurs were in now. Xanzz felt like crawling under his wagon and weeping. "Aww, what have I done?"

"But Uncle Spritzy, won't it take a long time for you to get the grenades out with all these locks and straps on the crates?" The dwarf was determined to make the nickname stick, horrid little thing that she was.

"No, not at all. Because I know the magic word to make 'em all spring open, and you don't."

"That's not fair!"

Xanzz stood and turned to the children. "All right, first one in the wagon gets to crawl up to the front seat with me!"

In retrospect, Xanzz might have spared himself a trampling if he hadn't said that while standing right in front of the wagon.

At the top of a hill, Xanzz could finally see the point where the desert gave way to marshlands. It was there, in Dustwallow Marsh, that the humans had started building their new city, Theramore. The goblin had never been so relieved in his life! He winced as the Orc girl, who had won the spot up front with him, started smacking his arm. "What is it already?"

"Over there!" Xanzz felt his stomach sink as he noticed a dust cloud in the direction she was pointing. "There must be a million of them!" She actually sounded excited! The merchant told himself he would never understand orcs. He reigned in the team of horses pulling the cart and hopped off, anxiously hurrying to the locked chests before the other children could realize why they were stopping. Too late; the dwarf and the human boy were already tugging on the leather straps. "NO," he shouted at them. "Stay away!"

It didn't help that he fumbled the first several times he tried to undo the straps. "I can smash it," the orc girl said helpfully.

"Absolutely not, that'll blow us all to smithereens!"

"Uncle Spritzy…" The low, soft tones the tauren spoke in made him look up. Unfortunately he looked up at the exact moment the strap he'd been struggling with came loose. The crate was wrapped so tightly that the leather band whipped free and smacked him in the eye. "OW! Yeah, what is it?!"

"Where do babies come from?"

Only a kid would find this question important while a centaur horde was charging. "Gold, of course!"

Nine voices chimed in at once. "Really?"

"Sure, just like everything else! You see, a male gets lots and lots of gold. Next thing he knows, females are running after him with babies that are suddenly his. Now shut up, all of you!" That was a rare lesson Xanzz could give from personal experience. Of course, his cousin's sister had had a similar problem after she made her fortune selling basilisk manure as skin cream to the muckety-mucks in Gadgetzan and Booty Bay, but if they wanted the female perspective then they should have asked _her_.

Xanzz neatly dodged the whiplash of the second leather strap, and the force of it knocked the crate over on its side. All of his cousin's patented extra-loud Ka-blammo grenades went rolling all over the place. "Sargeras' bronzed beard!" The children scurried with gleeful laughter, picking up as many of the weapons as they could grab. He saw the orc and the dwarf even stuff some into their pockets. Well, if he couldn't keep them away from dangerous toys, he had damn well better teach them how to use them properly. For his own sake, of course.

"Now listen up!" The stinkers all held their hands behind their backs, as if he had not been watching the last five minutes! Xanzz sighed and pulled out one of the extras he'd kept on his person. "The detonator button is here." He waved his hands in pure irritation as all nine kids cheered for joy. "Once you press it, you have _three seconds_ to toss it, or that crate will be you!" He tossed his grenade at the empty crate, and it impressively shattered into a shower of splintered wood as the grenade exploded with a deafening roar.

"Wow," nine juvenile voices breathed in unison.

The human girl changed her mind, running up to Xanzz to give him all the grenades she had picked up. The tauren was less obvious about it, but the goblin spotted her dropping hers on the ground and strolling away from them. The gnome…

"What are you doing? Stop you fool!" Xannz' shriek froze the tiny creature in position, but it was already too late. With a clank and a fizz, the grenade fell apart in the gnome's hands, its highly volatile powders forming a small pile at her feet.

She looked up at everyone cowering and blushed. "I just wanted to see what was inside," she squeaked, her eyes growing so big they almost engulfed her face entirely.

"Dey be comin, mon!"

Xanzz looked over to the troll and saw that the centaurs were indeed almost upon them. "Everybody up on the wagon!"

The children cooperated amazingly well: the more agile elves and troll clambered to the very top of the wagon, while the dwarf and gnome simply ducked underneath the wheels. The ones who considered themselves non-combatants, the human girl and the tauren, climbed in the back of the cart. Styling himself a hero, the human boy jumped in behind them and kneeled at the edge of the cart. The orc girl, even in such an emergency, was loathe to give up her coveted seat next to Xanzz himself and did her best to duck low as the centaurs started throwing spears. Her breathing was quick and nervous, but her eyes were shining with excitement as she pulled her arm back. The goblin grabbed it before she let go. "No!" He shouted loudly enough for all the children to hear. "Don't waste 'em! Wait till the centaur get closer. I'll tell you when to throw!" A chorus of youthful shouts acknowledged his order, and for a moment he thought he might be proud of 'em. Nah, he still hated kids.

The centaurs came closer and Xanzz was able to make out a few individual shapes in the swarm that approached. The rolling thunder of hoofbeats grew louder and he suddenly wondered if the kids would hear him give the signal to throw the grenades.

He glanced beside him and saw the orc girl hunched down, peeking out from behind the reigns with wide eyes. A spear zipped past the goblin's ear, and he realized he may have waited too long. "Now!" He bellowed as loudly as he could as he threw his first grenade.

His was the only grenade launched. Thankfully, the kids couldn't hear his prolific swearing either as his lone grenade fell far short of the closest centaur.

**BA-ROOOOOOM!**

The centaurs scattered in all directions, completely unnerved by the deafening sound, and the seven kids with grenades all threw at once.

The explosion was so fierce, the bang so inconceivably loud, Xanzz didn't even remember hearing it. The wagon nearly flipped over from the force of the explosions, and for several moments the merchant was so dizzy he couldn't even see. Once the ringing in his ears cleared, he was amazed at how perfectly silent everything seemed. He peered out right and left. Bodies littered the ground all around the wagon, and a significantly smaller dust cloud in the distance seemed to indicate that the surviving centaurs were beating a hasty retreat.

The wagon was _way_ too quiet, and at first he imagined that all the kids had been knocked off the vehicle and trampled to death. He very nearly shouted for joy when he looked down and found the little orc girl right where he had last seen her, eyes shut tightly and hands over her ears but still breathing. Xanzz told himself if the children had died, he wouldn't have been paid when he arrived at Theramore. Obviously that was the only reason his relief at their survival was so profound. Xanzz Spritzoil still hated kids.

As the goblin was reassuring himself, the children all gave a loud cheer. The orc girl turned to Xanzz, her eyes shining with glee, and he was startled to find himself grinning at her. Then the girl opened her mouth and let out a battle roar that would have made a lion cower.

The merchant helped himself up off the ground, cursing kids of all races, sexes, and religions. He caught a glimpse of the human boy helping the human and tauren girls out of the wagon and shook his head. The only thing gallantry ever got anyone was an impossible level of expectation to meet.

Xanzz felt something on his leg and looked down to see the little gnome girl hugging it and beaming up at him. The goblin leaned down and patted her on her head.

"Come on, ya grinnin' fool!" He looked up to see the dwarf girl waving at him. Grinning? Again?! Nonsense! Xanzz Spritzoil would never _grin_ while there were children around to annoy him. The dwarf shouted again. "They're starting a bonfire!"

"What? Nononono that's dangerous!" Xanzz ran around to the other side of the wagon just as the troll boy leaned one last stick of wood against a host of others and the high elf magically lit a spark to set the impressive structure ablaze. Immediately the night elf girl and the troll started dancing wildly around the fire, each a little startled to notice the other but refusing to stop. The other children sat in a circle and clapped. Xanzz could only watch in amazement as the two dancers took each other's hands and began a wild series of acrobatic moves as if they had been practicing with each other for years while the other kids cheered and hooted.

Suddenly the gnome was tugging on Xanzz's arm. "C'mon!"

Xanzz frantically tried to shake his arm free. "Absolutely not!" This only made the tiny girl try harder to pull him up from his seat. Her growls made all the other children notice, and before you could say 'cartel' all the girls in the group were ganging up on him, dragging him from his comfortable little log to dance with them and giggling all the while. Xanzz absolutely hated it. He hated the dancing, the singing and the telling stories… He hated every part of it, all night long.

Late the next morning, they prepared to make the last short leg of their journey to Theramore. Even the orc seemed eager to reach the human city, as long as it was a place of some civilization. They had hardly begun, however, when the ground began to shake and yet another dust cloud was seen in the distance.

"_More_ centaurs?" The boy human was incredulous. Xanzz spat into the dirt. "The humans in this city must be stirring them up," he replied.

"No problem," sang out the dwarf. "Where are them slambangers?"

"Extra-loud Kablammos," Xanzz corrected her. "Well, uh, there are none left."

Nine voices yelped in unison. "What?!"

Xanzz held up his hands. "Hey, don't worry! I've got a plan! I just need you kids to distract the centaur by running as fast as you can to that tower over there."

They all nodded, but most of them frowned. The elves looked downright skeptical, but mercifully they kept their doubts to themselves. The gnome, not so much.

"You're gonna leave us!"

"Don't be ridiculous! I'll be right behind you, I just need time to focus on the special Spritzoil Surprise Pack, so I need a diversion. Can you do it? It's a lot to ask. I'd understand if you didn't think you were up to the task…" Xanzz watched the resolve harden each of their faces, even before the human girl put her fists on her hips and said, "Of course we can do it!"

Xanzz studied the makeshift bomb with satisfaction: the sheer destructive potential of this contraption would have truly made his grandpappy proud. He turned south, watching the little group of children making their way to the tower. For the first time, he wondered if any of them even had a name. Despite running as fast as their little legs could carry them – the tauren had actually picked the gnome up on her broad shoulders – they were barely halfway to the tower, and there was no sign anyone had noticed them. So much for the "watch" part of "watchtower". Then he turned and faced northward, thinking about the guard who had fled yesterday. Despite irrefutable facts, he couldn't shake the suspicion that she had found somewhere safe to run, and was living large on _his_ gold. He could hear the war-whoops of the approaching centaur as he tapped his remote detonator against his other palm, but he snuck one more glance southward. It looked to his impatient eyes as if the kids hadn't moved at all. Xanzz took one indecisive step, and then stumbled to the ground, clutching at the leg that now had a centaur's spear embedded in it. He rolled over, grimacing in pain, to see the centaur horde almost upon him. He looked down at the big red button on his remote detonator, and muttered "Damn kids."

The tower guard couldn't help feeling suspicious. It would be just like the Burning Legion to disguise its most sinister agents as wandering innocent children. What good reason could they possibly have for being in the middle of a swamp with displaced centaur hordes everywhere?

"Who are you kids?" He finally asked.

The dwarf girl at the head of the group drew herself up and gave a sharp salute, which the guard returned with a smirk. "Gierta Craghew, sir!"

The human boy stepped forward next. "Baratholon Parne," he said softly.

"Moughsi Sodhoof," the tauren girl muttered shyly. The guard couldn't help a snicker at that one. Moughsi? The kid was in for a tough time.

"Caroline de Tarnil." The human girl turned up her nose slightly as she addressed the guard, who rolled his eyes. The dirt caking her face didn't look any prettier than it did on any of the others.

The high elf bowed with a grand flourish. Another one fond of posturing. "Deonius Spellreader, at your service."

The night elf had her arms folded as she studied the stone structure before her. "Juraliya Lakeshimmer," she said in sullen tones.

"Glinpur Grinsocket," piped up a tiny voice from behind the tauren, and a gnomish girl peeked up at the guard and waved.

The orc girl clasped her hands behind her back. "Shargh," she stated simply. Then she glanced around at the others and scowled at her feet. "Just Shargh."

"J'Rinzan be my name," boomed the troll in a deep voice, patting the orc on her shoulder.

The guard nodded politely at each introduction, and waited until they were finished before asking his next question. "What are you kids doing out here on your own?"

"We're not on our own," said Moughsi.

"That's right," Gierta said, shaking her finger at the guard. "Have ye lost yer mind? Sure we're awesome and all, but even _we_ needed a _little_ help."

"Speaking of which," Deonius put in, "there's a merchant wagon not far back up the road which…"

Everyone turned and stared at a loud noise in the direction Deonius was pointing. The sky flashed red, and an impossibly loud boom reached their ears a moment later. Most of the children were dumbstruck.

"NOOOOOO!" Glinpur screamed for them all. She started running back the way they came. Gierta tried to hold her back and somehow was trampled. J'Rinzan and Juraliya managed to get hold of the gnome, but by then Barathalon and Shargh were also running back up the road side-by-side, and the guards from the tower had to intervene.

In a secluded spot on the side of a road in the windswept landscape of the Barrens, right on the edge of Dustwallow Marsh, stood a lone grave marker. A scrap of paper placed carefully on the stone fluttered in a light breeze. "We'll never forget," the note read, "our Uncle Spritzy." Then the breeze grew stronger, and carried the note far away.

The End


End file.
